


Everything

by D0LARHYDE



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Fluff without Plot, John Watson Loves Sherlock Holmes, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, One Shot, POV John Watson, Porn with Feelings, Random & Short, Sexual Content, Short One Shot, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:27:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26851426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/D0LARHYDE/pseuds/D0LARHYDE
Summary: And then, John felt torn between wanting Sherlock to wake up so he could see those eyes again, and wanting him to stay asleep so he could take in the serenity of Sherlock in the tangled sheets.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes & John Watson, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 15
Kudos: 62





	Everything

**Author's Note:**

> Not only is this my first smutty fic, it's also my first fic on AO3! It's midnight ramble writing and really short, but I hope at least one person will enjoy it :)

John lay in the bed, drinking in Sherlock’s beauty. His smooth cream skin, his dark disheveled hair. His tender lips, parted ever so slightly. Only in sleep did Sherlock look so peaceful. His normally furrowed brow was relaxed, and his jaw unclenched.

The soft skin of Sherlock’s neck and collarbone, usually obscured by layers of scarf and coat, now lay exposed, and John resisted the urge to stroke them. Instead, he lay on his side as still as possible, watching Sherlock. He was almost afraid that his slightest movement might jar the peaceful man and shake him out of slumber.

But all at once, John remembered Sherlock’s sharp, pleading blue eyes from the previous night, the breathtaking irises gazing at him through a curtain of lashes. And then, John felt torn between wanting Sherlock to wake up so he could see those eyes again, and wanting him to stay asleep so he could take in the serenity of Sherlock in the tangled sheets. John figured either one was equally as good if it meant he could see Sherlock forever.

He let his mind wander, remembering Sherlock’s lean body pressed against his, the warmth of his mouth and hands vividly displayed in his mind. Sherlock’s meticulous strokes, the feeling of their members sliding against the other’s. Planting slow kisses down Sherlock’s abdomen lower and lower, the faint hairs on his stomach slowly growing thicker until he reached his cock. Warm, so warm, John remembered. Sherlock was… so _human_ , he realized then.

He recalled the soft whines and moans that escaped Sherlock’s mouth. His silken, baritone voice begging John for more, groaning uncontrollably. Then John, teasingly asking Sherlock if he wanted more, if he _really_ wanted more. “Yes,” Sherlock gasped, “please, John, please.” He looked at John with those pleading eyes, desperately pulling him closer. His fingers dug into John so tightly, they left bruises. John teased him a bit more, just wanting to hear Sherlock’s breathy voice for as long as possible.

Eventually, John gave Sherlock what he wanted of course, not because he had begged so sweetly, but because he couldn’t bear to let go of Sherlock. He never wanted it to end. So he kept thrusting, kissing, sucking. His hands roamed freely on Sherlock’s body, feeling each crevice and groove, committing each one to his mind. The man he adored so deeply. John was so close to him, and he wanted to get even closer. He wanted to see those twinkling eyes every day, and see the little dry smirk on Sherlock’s lips. The calculating whip-smart deductions, the annoyingly clever quips, the off-the-rocker instincts, his rash impulsivity, his knack for getting them in dangerous situations. John hated it sometimes. Maybe even all the time. Yet, he still wanted all those things, all of Sherlock. He couldn’t fathom a world without all of Sherlock. To think that he had held him so intimately the previous night filled his heart.

So John watched Sherlock sleeping there next to him, so tranquil. He memorized each piece and part of the man he loved. And when Sherlock awoke, grumbling embarrassedly with quick gibes, John shot right back, relishing in the feeling of merely talking to Sherlock. Because those few simple moments with Sherlock were everything. _No_ , John thought, _Sherlock was everything_.


End file.
